The Rules Of Engagement
by IUseGoldenInk
Summary: She's a bleeding heart liberal. He's a jaded Marine. She's the best friend. He's the older brother. She's middle class. He's loaded. And they're sharing the same address. Painfully cliché? You have no idea. - Lydia/Derek - Adapted from judevanderhall - AU/AH. Derek and Laura are the only Hale siblings.
1. Let It Be

**- ONE -**

Lydia leant on the apartment door and pushed it open with her back. Her hands were full with bags of groceries, mail in her mouth, and keys hung precariously off her pointer finger. She shook her head in a vain attempt to get her bangs from out of her eyes. She shuffled in awkwardly, puffing, and she swore she could feel sweat forming on her brow. She was able to lean slightly over to throw her keys on the table beside the door, and with a flourish she spat out the mail on the table as well. Satisfied, she continued to lean back on the door and shuffled herself inside until her body was completely in the apartment.

"Need help?"

She yelped in surprise and dropped one of the brown paper bags, and a landslide of oranges tumbled out. She was not expecting anyone to be home, least of all a man. She looked up to see the source of the voice: a man (a shirtless man) leaning casually on the hallway archway with a carton of milk in one hand. _Her carton of milk!_ She hid her momentary shock at the stranger and asked, "Who in the hell are you and why are you in my apartment?" Sneakily she allowed herself one discreet peek at his lean torso, to satisfy the red blooded female in her.

His mouth hung in to an easy smile, amused. "Last I checked this was my apartment," he told her as he walked towards her.

She furrowed her brows, "Wait, you're Derek?" He nodded and set the carton of milk between his bicep and ribs, before relieving her of the grocery bags. Up close she noticed the numbers tattoed on his inner forearm and wondered what they meant.

"Didn't Laura tell you I was coming?"

She nodded slowly and tried not to stare at his shoulder blades moving underneath his skin as he walked towards the kitchen. She traced her eyes over his back where there was more bright ink, spreading up over a quarter of his skin and stopping at the right side of his torso; it was something, she hated to admit, she wanted to study up close. She shook her head, regaining focus.

"She did tell me but I thought you weren't coming in for a few more days." He dropped the bags on the kitchen counter and leant on it, crossing his arms, silently assessing her. "And Laura's still at work."

His jaw tightened slightly and he took a drink of milk from the carton. He seemed to be rolling his tongue inside his mouth, still watching her. Lydia was getting annoyed and was about to voice this when he finally spoke, "I think you can close the door now." She hadn't even realised she was still leaning on it.

Hiding her embarassment by ostensibly fixing her clothes she stepped off the door and allowed it to shut behind her. She knew she looked like a mess; her hair was, no doubt, in its 5 o'clock slump, and her clothes were wrinkled with wear. She looked up at him and met his firm stare, "Well, thank you for helping me with the groceries."

He shrugged and pushed himself off the counter, "No problem. I didn't catch your name."

"Oh, I'm Lydia."

"Nice to meet you," he told her, though the words seemed to ring hollow; and before she could offer him her hand to shake he had begun to walk to the hallway towards his room.

"How long were you standing there for?"

He turned over his shoulder with a smirk, "Long enough." Then he took a swig of the milk. _Her milk._ She didn't know why his answer annoyed her, but it did.

"And that's my milk," irritatation inched in to her voice.

He looked down at the carton in his hand and shrugged, undeterred, and he disappeared in to the hallway, out of her sight, to be followed with a door slam.

_Well, this'll be interesting,_ she thought.

**- o -**

"And then he just kept drinking my milk," Lydia finished in a hush, looking over her shoulder to make sure that a certain Derek Hale wasn't listening. "I know he's your brother and everything, but he's a cocky motherfucker, and he doesn't even need to say anything."

Laura regarded her friend squarely as they ate pasta. She quirked her right brow upwards. "I know, doesn't matter. He really is a bit of an arrogant son of a bitch, but it's his Marine instinct, you know."

Lydia shrugged - truth be told, she wasn't displeased to see him because she enjoyed change, and someone interrupting a well established living arrangement was a big change. What displeased her, really, was that he was a Marine. She hated the military and all that it stood for, as much influenced by her political beliefs as by her family history. But he was Laura's older brother and so she had to maintain a modicum of respect towards him; not to mention he was the part owner of the apartment she was currently living in. Although, she knew that Laura's and Derek's parents had technically bought it for them.

"But he seems pleasant enough, I guess. I mean, we spoke for all of 5 minutes, if that." Laura nodded, chewing, as she watched Lydia. "And what's the deal with not wearing a shirt?" She wanted to add that it was distracting, but thought better of it.

Laura resisted the urge to smirk and so said instead, "What did I say? He's an arrogant son of a bitch."

Lydia was about to expound some more on why his shirtlessness grated on her nerves when the object of their conversation alerted them to his presence by clearing his throat. The two girls turned around, hoping he hadn't been listening to what they were saying.

"I'm glad you think that way of me little sister." _But apparently he had._

Laura jumped from her seat and ran to her brother to hug him. She hadn't seen him in close to two and a half years, and he had been napping when she arrived that evening. A genuine smile graced his handsome features as he hugged the girl tightly. Lydia stayed seated and watched the two siblings reunite, embarassed that he had heard her griping about him. It was one thing to have your sister calling you an arrogant SOB, and quite another for a stranger - who had known you for all of five minutes - to refer to you as a cocky motherfucker.

"I told you never to use that Recon crap to eavesdrop on me," Laura admonished him and hit his arm. "Not cool," she said looking up at him from the death grip that was his arms.

He only grinned and released her from his embrace. They walked to the table where Lydia sat self-conscious, willing a hole to rip open from under her so that she may be sucked in to it and avoid the awkwardness she knew would follow. She didn't miss the way his eyes flicked over to her briefly as he sat down, before they settled warmly on his sister. Lydia stood by her words, but she didn't mean for him to hear them.

"Derek, I've missed you so much! Tell me about your last tour."

His lips twitched in to a wry smile. "You want me to talk about how many people I blew up?"

Lydia nearly choked on her beer, unimpressed with what he just said. Laura rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

He shrugged, "There's not much to tell." But Laura's facial expression prodded him expectantly. Derek's mouth set in to a grim line before he said, "Fish Lips died."

Laura's smile faded as she reached over to take her brother's hand. "Oh Derek, I'm sorry."

Lydia cleared her throat. They had forgotten she was there and they both turned to see her standing up. "I, um, I'm going to take a post-meal smoke. I'll just be on the balcony."

Then she walked to the sliding door a few steps from where they were eating and exited outside.

"I don't think she likes me very much," Derek told his sister, still looking at Lydia through the glass.

Laura shook her head, "She's a tough nut to crack and idealistic to a fault." She paused before adding as an afterthought, "She's a lot like you actually."

He turned back to his sister wondering what she was driving at, but she always had a good poker face and he let it slide. "Right."

"So, Fish Lips," she began gently.

He sighed and nodded. "Yeah, it was not pretty."

"What happened?"

"It doesn't matter," he shook his head, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay." Laura knew better than to force his brother to vent when he didn't want to, and so changed the subject, "Do you want some coffee?"

He turned to her with an affectionate smile. "Coffee would be nice, thanks."

Laura squeezed his hand a final time and stood up. "Derek, you know I'm here for you, whenever you're ready," she told him.

"I know, and thanks." Derek watched his sister walk to the kitchen and looked down at his hands on the table. "Do you want me to clean up?" He called out.

"No, leave it there."

"Ok." But he started clearing the table anyway; there had only been two of them eating and Lydia was otherwise distracted with her cancer stick. He had to be one of the few Marines who didn't smoke and had no desire too, either - at least habitually. He did enjoy the odd cigarette or two during down time on duty. He walked to the kitchen and wondered about his sister's friend. She had only entered in to his sister's life in the last couple of years during the time he had been absent, but they were close. So close in fact that when their last tenant left she had given the room to Lydia and foregone the bond.

When he had woken up from his nap he had heard rumbles of their hushed conversation through the walls, and he had stealthily exited his room and stood in the darkness of the hallway to eavesdrop. He had caught enough of the conversation to know that she wasn't overly fond of him - probably because he drank her milk without asking. Then she threw in the part about his not wearing a shirt. Her little tirade amused him. He had been called worse, and by his own men too.

"I told you that you didn't need to clear the table."

He shrugged and placed the plates in the sink. "Well I did anyway. Do you want me to wash them?"

She began shooing him away, "Go sit, you're tired, seriously. I'm waiting for the coffee to brew so I'll do them."

"What can I do?"

"Nothing."

"Stop babying me, I feel so helpless."

She began pushing him out of the kitchen, "Just go."

"Fine."

"Actually," Laura's head popped around the corner of the kitchen archway just as Derek was near the sofa, "can you ask Lydia if she wants coffee."

He nodded, happy to be given something to do, "Sure."

Laura grinned and her head popped out of sight. Derek walked to the sliding door of the balcony. Lydia was leant over the railing smoking, oblivious to him watching her. She was hot, he'd give her that, but she stunk of bleeding-heart liberal. Her reaction to his joke about blowing people up seemed to have confirmed something about him in her mind. Not to mention, Laura's emails to him had given him insight in to his new flatmate prior to meeting her. He tapped on the glass lightly, which seemed to have startled her judging by the way her shoulders jerked. She turned around as he slid the door open.

"Laura wants to know if you'd like a cup of coffee."

"Um, sure."

He responded with a brief nod before he slid the door close and walked away. Lydia looked after him, then she flicked her cigarette away. She stayed there a moment longer before she followed suit. Inside, music - The Best of Al Green, her favouite - was playing, and Laura and Derek were sitting on the couch chatting casually. She felt like an outsider interrupting their family reunion. She decided she would just get her coffee and give them their privacy by retreating to her room. But his damn super military hearing must have heard her coming because he turned to face her, which in turn prompted Laura to as well.

"Hey, Lydia, come sit down and chill with us."

So much for making a quick entrance and exit. "I'm on my way," she smiled.

She sat down on the armchair adjacent to the couch Laura and her brother were occupying, and picked up the cup and saucer which had been laid out for her on the coffee table. Sitting side by side it was easy to see that they were the product of the same genetic stock; both had the same dark brown hair and goddish features; but it was their eyes that they shared - a sparkling green.

"So, Lydia, what do you think? Do you think that Derek should leave the service?"

Derek rolled his eyes, "You say this to me all the time."

Laura ignored him and kept looking at her friend, "Well?"

"Um, I don't think I have much authority to speak on the issue." Non-committal and non-judgmental, _that was good Lydia._

"That's not true," Derek challenged her.

She hadn't expected him to respond as he did - or at all - and so she was caught off guard. "Well," her mouth opened and closed a few times before she could articulate her thoughts, "if you feel that you're ready to leave, then you should leave."

"But what if I don't want to leave?"

"Then don't leave."

"But Laura wants me to leave."

"Then maybe you should consider her feelings on the issue," Lydia countered.

Laura watched them with a secretive smile and seemed to have faded in the couch as her brother continued, "So on what do you think I should base my decision on? What I want or what she wants?"

"Well, she's family, and you work in a pretty hostile environment -"

He snorted, "That's an understatement."

Annoyed he had interrupted her she finished firmly, "- I think taking in to consideration the wishes of loved ones, should factor in to it, yes. It's quite selfish."

"You're a writer, aren't you?"

She furrowed her brows, wondering where he was going with this, and how he knew this, "Yes, but I don't see how -"

"If you were given the assignment to cover part of the war in Iraq right now, would you?"

"In a heartbeat."

"Without due consideration to how much your loved ones may feel about you working in an environment where you're untrained to deal with being in the line of fire?"

Lydia didn't know how to answer, and said feebly, "That's different."

"How is it any different? It's still selfish. We are motivated by a selfish impetus, because ultimately we do what we want."

"So we should always do what we want?"

He shrugged and took a drink of the coffee, "Within reason."

"Well, what's within reason, then? Hypothetically I cover a war and come back, and then that's that. You keep tempting fate by continually going back."

"How do you know what I'm doing isn't my fate and I'm just fulfilling it?"

She was stunned at how quick his answers were. She saw the logic that underlined what he was saying, but she hated that she was losing. There was a pause and only Al Green's soulful crooning filled the silence as they held each other's stare.

"Well, that's getting a little too philosphical for my little head to understand," Laura said with a nervous laugh. Lydia and Derek broke their standoff to look at her as she continued speaking, "Re-enlist if you want to. I know that's what you love. And I know you'll do it anyway 'cause you're pigheaded." He smiled. "But I worry about you."

Derek nodded, understanding her apprehensions. "And I'm as careful as I can be."

The phone rang and Lydia jumped at the opportunity to answer it. She hated being the third wheel, and the quick exchange of words with Derek had jarred her. She hadn't expected him to be so well-spoken. She had always imagined Jarheads to be crass, inarticulate buffoons intent on killing people. She hoped the call would be for her, but unfortunately it was Scott, Laura's boyfriend. Handing the phone over to Laura she then sat back down and tried not to make eye contact with the Marine. They sat in silence as Laura spoke on the phone. It was probably some of the most awkward few minutes of her life. She could hear the other girl attempting to close the conversation citing her brother's recent arrival. When Laura finally came back Lydia simultaneously stood up.

"I think I'm going to go to bed now."

Laura furrowed her brows, "But it's only 10:30, on a Friday."

Lydia shrugged, "I know, but I had a long day at work. I'm pretty tired."

Laura looked unconvinced but nodded anyway, "Ok then, good night."

Lydia smiled, "Good night." Then she turned to Derek. "Good night, it was nice meeting you. I hope we get to know each other better." She wasn't fooling anybody. Her voice was so cool that Derek felt the frost in her voice.

"I have a feeling we'll get to know each other very well," he told her from the couch, voice clean and even.

"See you guys tomorrow." Then she walked towards her bedroom. She heard their whispers as she walked away and so childlishly stood in the hallway, out of their sight, to listen to what they were saying.

"I told you to behave." Lydia's lips hooked into a smile. It was typical of Laura to be so anti-confrontation. That girl didn't know how to handle tension. It was probably why she was so like-able because she was always appeasing everybody - so mindful of avoiding offence, intended or otherwise.

"I know, but she's too easy."

Lydia's smile fell. So he was just playing with her. She walked quietly to her room and got ready for bed. She had resolved to play whatever game he seemed to be intent on playing with her. His behaviour when she arrived home that afternoon was probably his way of sussing out his enemy. Now that he had engaged her in to some friendly fire he better knew his opponent. Well, Mr. Derek Hale, game on.


	2. In My Life

**- TWO -**

"Three days, Danny, it's been three days that we've hardly spoken a word to each other." Lydia buried her head in her arms.

Dannytopher Delaney, M.D., as he liked to tell people, looked at his ex-girlfriend slouched over the desk. "Lydia, get up from there. If my supervisor saw that I not only took someone in his office with me, but left oil marks from your face all over his desk, I'd be in what people call _the shit_."

Lydia looked up at him standing in his blue scrubs. "Have you been listening to anything I've said?"

"Yeah, yeah, you think Laura's older brother is hot," he told here as he ushered her out.

"What? No I don't. I didn't say that."

Danny only grinned as he pushed her outside the office. "You didn't have to."

Lydia liked to visit Danny at the hospital where he interned to bitch about the state of her life. Whilst she usually used Laura's sympathetic ear for this, she was inclined to believe that Laura's ear may not be as sympathetic to her moaning about how much she disliked living in the same place as her beloved brother. And Laura loved her brother. A lot. She thought she would find an ally in Danny when it came to Derek, but apparently not.

"What do you mean I didn't have to? I've only been saying how we've only exchanged pleasantries when Laura is there but otherwise ignored each other. And he does this backwards head nod thing to greet me as well. I mean what the hell is that?" Lydia mimicked Derek's greeting with her head. "Seriously, what is that?"

"Whatever Lydia, it's obvious you find the guy attractive but don't want to." He began walking down the corridor towards the cafeteria, Lydia in toe, scanning through the textbook he had retrieved from the doctor's office, shaking his head. "It doesn't make sense," he muttered.

"What doesn't make sense? And FYI that is so stupid to think that I'm stopping myself from finding someone attractive."

"Nothing, I've got a patient with vague symptoms, her blood test returned nothing, and I'm wondering whether I've missed something." He shut the book. "In any case, you're attracted to him, but you hate everything he stands for, so to negate the attraction you're focusing on all his negative traits, because you don't want to be hypocritical. Are you coming to the cafeteria with me?"

"No, I have to get back to work. And for the record, objectively, I can categorically admit that he is attractive, physically, but I just don't like him. He just rubs me up the wrong way." Lydia stopped at the elevators and pushed the button as Danny kept walking.

"Mark my words," he told her, walking backwards, "I know you better than you know yourself." Then he turned around and disappeared around the corner. The doors of the elevator slid open and she stepped in. No, Danny had absolutely no idea about what he was talking about.

**- o -**

One thing Lydia hated about working for a women's glossy was that she didn't get to do any "serious" journalism. All the articles in _Modern Woman_ were special interest stories that were used to inform bored housewives, rather than challenge them with hard-hitting investigative or opinion pieces. The worse part about her job was that she wasn't the one doing any of the writing. She was a sub-editor.

The office was buzzing with chatter, phones ringing, and the clacks of fingers tap, tap, tapping on keyboards. She took a sip from her cup of coffee. She had a feeling she would be at the office late. Their deadline for the printers was two days away and she was still touching up an article on women who were compulsive liars, along with other smaller clips on beauty and fashion that would pepper the magazine.

She looked up at the clock. It was 6 in the evening. She continued to press on, underlining, highlighting, re-formatting, fixing grammar, ad nauseum. She scoffed - she could write better than this drivel, and, yet, here she was fixing the grammar of an authoress with an inflated sense of ego. Judy Janovich wrote a lot of commissioned pieces for _Modern Woman_ and Lydia often wondered what was so great about her; granted, she had good pitches, but the execution of her stories left a lot to be desired. It was probably because Judy was the niece of the editrix of the magazine. _Speaking of the she-devil._

"Lydia."

"Yes, Jennifer?"

The editor-in-chief, Jennifer Blake, was a tall, wiry woman, with a perfect blond bob and translucent white skin. "Are you done with Judy's article so that we can send it back to her to fix up?"

Lydia plastered on a smile, "Almost there."

"We need that ASAP, we were meant to have run it last issue but it was riddled with problems."

_Maybe you should stop commissioning her incompetent ass then._ "Give me ten more minutes and it should be fine."

Jennifer gave her a brief nod, but before she could walk away Lydia stopped the older woman. "Jennifer, one more thing."

"Yes?"

"About next issue, do you think I could do a small article, or something, on how I think being carbon neutral is a fallacy to clear our conscience?"

Jennifer sighed, "I told you Lydia, we can't run those kinds of articles in the magazine. If you want you could write about what being carbon neutral is, but nothing too provocative. If you're willing to be impartial." Jennifer quirked an elegant brow upwards. "Are you?"

Lydia couldn't answer.

Jennifer already knew the answer anyway. She was fond of the younger woman and saw lots of potential, but her refusal to compromise her beliefs for a good story was her weakness. Writers couldn't lend their opinions too strongly without polarising readers. The important thing about a good article for her magazine was truth not opinion. "Besides," she continued, "that's too hard-hitting for your first piece, you need something a bit smaller."

"But you never give me the chance."

"Lydia, I know you're a good writer, but to get published in this magazine you need to compromise, alternately you could leave and write somewhere else, but you can't get somewhere else without decent clips, are you with me?"

Lydia knew all this, she had been given this spiel every month she failed to pitch a successful story idea. "I know, Jennifer, but -"

"If you can pitch me a story by the end of the month that I like, we'll run it, no problems, the month after. But to succeed in the game you have to play by the rules. Find a story that's not too provocative and we can go from there."

"Ok, sure."

Jennifer gave a brief nod. "Oh, and Lydia," she began before walking away, "I want Judy's story in ten minutes."

"I know, you'll get it." Lydia watched her editor retreat to her office. She couldn't do it, though, she knew what stories Jennifer was after, and she couldn't bring herself to write a story she found devoid of, well, meaning. She picked up Judy's article and snorted, a piece on women who compulsively lied - _talk about being anti-provocative_. She didn't know what the purpose of the article was. It was so vanilla, and so achingly mediocre. She was no modern day Faulkner herself but she knew she could do better, but she couldn't bring herself to write about something so borderline-tabloid. She'd find a story by the end of the month without compromising any of her thoughts, she knew she'd be able to. Her musings were interrupted by the phone ringing on her desk.

"Hello?"

"Lydia, it's Laura, what do you want for dinner?"

Lydia sat the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she continued to copy-edit the article, "I think I'll just pick something up on the way home. It's going to be a late night tonight."

"Lydia, you know that's not healthy. I'll just leave something out for you. Ok?"

Lydia grinned, Laura was more of a mother to her than her own biological mother. "Ok, thanks Laura, but I've got to hang up, I have so many things to do."

"Sure, sure, when are you going to get home do you think?"

She glanced at her watch, "I don't know, maybe around 9 or 9:30."

She heard the other girl sigh, "Take care ok? The subway on a week night can be a very not cool place to be."

"Yes mum, am I good to go?"

"I'll see you when you get back."

"Ok, bye, peace."

"Bye."

Laura tapped the phone against her palm in thought after she hung up, as a plan began to form in her head. With a wicked grin she placed the phone back in its cradle, then she sought her brother out so she could send him on a quick retrieval mission.

**- o -**

Derek had been trapped, not even any of his COs could corner him the way his sister did and make him drive all the way to downtown Manhattan, in a haze of drowsiness, to pick up her flatmate. The worse part was when she did those damn puppy dog eyes and made him guilty for not being around all the time. So, as he often did with some of her ridiculous demands, he acquiesced and pried himself from the countless DVDs he had missed whilst he was away. When he asked his dear sister why she didn't pick Lydia up herself she cited a sore wrist. She had then went on to emphasise how dangerous it was for young women to be taking the subway so late at night, attempting to appeal to the knight-in-shining armour complex that she knew he had. _That damn girl knew him too well._

People regarded the handsome Sargeant as they walked past him. He was leaning against the hood of his prized possession: a glossy black 1969 Lamborghini Muira convertible, which he had lovingly finished restoring before embarking on his last tour. Needless to say he made an impressive display in front of the_Hewison_ building where Lydia's offices were held, and she was more than shocked to find him - of all people - waiting for her there. He watched her face morph from surprise to skepticism upon seeing him when she walked out of the revolving doors of the building. She looked around her as if to check that he wasn't waiting for someone else. The curious looks some of her fellow - female - workers were giving her when she walked up to meet him did not go unnoticed by her.

"Are you waiting for me?"

"No."

_Well, she felt like an idiot._ "Oh, sorry, didn't mean to be presumptuous."

He shook his head and pushed himself off the hood. "I am, who else would I be waiting for exactly? Come on, get in." He pulled the passenger seat door open for her and Lydia reluctantly entered. He shut the door after her and made his way to the driver's side. She could be normal and nice. He was driving her home after all. When he entered she turned and smile.

"Thanks for picking me up, you didn't have to. I know Laura put you up to this."

He gave her a brief nod to acknowledge her thanks and started the engine. "She worries."

Lydia didn't know how to respond and so sat there silently as he pulled out of the parking space. He leant over and turned the radio on, and pushed in a disc that was hanging from the mouth of the player. Soon, Sam and Dave filled the car and she couldn't help but grin.

"You were the one who put on Al Green the other night?"

He flashed her a looked before turning back to the front. "Yeah, I like old school soul, Motown, Stax, Memphis type stuff."

_Common ground, this was good._ "Me too. I had thought it was uncharacteristic of Laura to put on Al Green."

His mouth hitched upwards slightly. "You like Sam and Dave?"

"Um, yeah, is 'When something is wrong with my baby' on here?"

He nodded without turning to her. "It should be the second song after this one."

She went to lean over to change the track, but realised that it wasn't Laura she was with and so stopped herself. She looked up to him, "Can I?"

"Yeah, sure, that's my favourite Sam and Dave song."

She scanned to the right position and the familiar opening bars of the song filled the car.

She sat back in the leather seat, content. She could lose herself in music like this. She leant her head on the leather seat and began mouthing the words, lost in her little world as she watched the city outside the window pass her. Derek sneaked a look to her; she had a pleasant expression on her face. He brought his attention back to driving. The soft movement of her lips miming the lyrics was a little distracting, and he gripped the gear stick a little tighter. She was a funny one. Since their pseudo-confrontation his first night there, she seemed to consciously avoid him.

"My mum used to put on Sam and Dave when she got home late from work," she said suddenly.

"Where did she work?"

Lydia looked at Derek with a small smile, "She was a maid." He nodded, knowing that she didn't expect him to respond. The song finished and moved in to the next one, 'You ain't no big thing baby.' It seemed to lift her spirits because she started to tap her foot. "What other CDs do you have?"

"In my car?" He asked; she nodded an affirmative. "I think I have a mix that I compiled in the glove compartment. You can put it on if you want."

She opened the glove compartment and found the CD. She read the tracklist written on it with a small smile, and with each song she read her mouth grew wider. "This is a good mix, you start off with some Otis, throw in a little bit of Wilson Pickett." She faced him, "Impressive."

"I made it for an ex-girlfriend of mine; but even after listening to that CD she still wasn't sold on the whole soul music thing."

"It's all slow jams," she observed, as she ejected the Sam and Dave CD and played his mix.

He seemed to smile to himself before he answered, "I made it as a soundtrack for when we were engaging in certain bedroom activities."

She shook her head, "You like it slow and sexy, huh?" She hadn't meant for it to come out so flirtatious and she bit her tongue. He didn't turn to her and kept his face passive, looking straight ahead.

"Depends on what I feel like, but I do like a lazy Sunday afternoon screw if that's what you mean."

She hadn't anticipated his answer and her heart seemed to have skipped a beat. "To be honest I really don't know what I mean, but I'll keep that in mind."

A small smile etched itself on his face, and the rest of the drive back to the apartment was spent in a thoughtful silence listening to the music.

**- o -**

The first thing Laura said when the duo walked in was, "Did Danny contact you?"

Derek didn't react and went straight to the couch to resume the DVD he had been watching, but he kept his ear peeled anyway, as he was a gossip.

Lydia furrowed her brows and shook her head, "No, why?"

"He didn't say. He tried to contact you but said your cell was turned off."

"My battery died during the day."

"I think you should call him, he sounded pretty distressed on the phone."

Lydia frowned, "Thanks," then she picked up the landline as Laura settled next to her brother.

"There's chicken in the fridge," Laura called out when Lydia walked in to the kitchen to allow herself some privacy.

Lydia dialled Danny's number; she listened absently to what the TV playing - _Ironman_, she was pretty sure - as she thought about what Danny could need so urgently. When he finally picked up her focus was drawn to his weary greeting.

"Danny, it's me, what's up? My battery died." She rummaged through the fridge and found the chicken, and started to fix herself a sandwhich.

"Lupus."

Lydia was confused. "Lupus?"

"She had Lupus. I lost her."

"Who?" She buttered the bread and placed strips of chicken on it, before topping it off with some mustard.

"The patient from today, the reason I went to get that textbook from my supervisor's office - I lost her. My diagnosis came too late." There was silence. She swore she could hear his heart cracking over the phone.

"Danny?" She prodded gently.

"It was my fault. I should have been more vigilant, done more diagnostic tests, anything. But it's so hard to tell, you know?" More silence. "It was my fault," he repeated again, dejected.

"Danny it's not your fault, if you couldn't have known... then," but she didn't know how to finish her sentence and chose a different tact: "You're a good doctor Danny, things like this happen, you knew this when you signed up."

"I just... it's difficult to accept that you were in the position to help someone but didn't."

"Couldn't," Lydia corrected him gently.

"Lupus can be treated Lydia, 9 out of 10 people with Lupus end up living long lives. I just don't know how I could have missed it."

"Maybe you should sleep on this."

He scoffed. "If I can. She didn't have the damn butterfly rash."

Lydia swallowed, knowing whatever she said wouldn't be of help, not to mention she had no idea what he was referring to. "Danny," she began firmly, "go to bed and I'll see you tomorrow, ok?"

"I feel guilty."

"You can't blame yourself for every patient you lose. Just believe enough that you're a good doctor, and you'll save more lives than you won't."

"Angela Barthes," he began, "her name was Angela Barthes."

"I'm sure she knows you did what you could."

There was a pause, before he said finally, "But did I really do all I could have? Fact is, right now she's lying in a bodysuit in the morgue."

She was about to allay his anxiety with some soothing words but she was met with a click and the dialtone. She looked down at the phone in her hand and sighed. She put the phone back in the dock, plate with her sandwich in the other hand, then sat down at the table to have her dinner. Laura leant over the back of the couch to look at her.

"What did Danny want?"

"He lost his first patient today."

Laura's face fell, ever the empath, "Is he ok?"

"He'll manage."

"The first one's always the hardest," Derek interjected, without turning from what he was watching.

Lydia stopped mid-bite. This was really none of his business. "I hardly think you're much of an authority on this."

He turned around and held her eyes, "The first kill's always the hardest to get over."

"He didn't kill her, his diagnosis was late. There's a difference."

He snorted, "Is there really?" He turned back to the movie.

_Bastard_. "Yes, he treats people; in your line of work, however, you go out with the express intention of killing them." She had the urge to throw her plate at him. Just when she thought that he had displayed a shred of humanity during the ride home, he undermined it by making a callous contribution to a conversation no one asked him to participate in. So tactless.

Laura looked at her brother and shook her head, "I love you, but you're such an ass sometimes." He only shrugged and kept watching. "Seriously Derek, that was uncalled for."

"It's true. After this patient, this Danny guy - who I'm assuming is a doctor - will be able to handle death easier."

"Is that how it is for you? Easy deaths? Not everyone views death as a casualty statistic," Lydia spat.

"Death is indiscriminate, it doesn't care who is dying and who is there to cause or prevent it - it will happen. The less personal you take it, the better you're able to live with it." It was his casual indifference towards death, to Danny, to proferring his opinion that no one asked him for, that ticked Lydia off.

"That may be the case for you, but not everyone has been indoctrinated to be so cold and ruthless." Lydia stood up. "I'm going to my room." She walked away and the sound of her door slamming was heard not long after.

"So this the way it's going to be, then, is it? You're going to keep baiting her because you get a kick from watching people get pissed off at you?"

"Laura, the problem with civilians is that they believe everything is either morally wrong or right." He kept his eyes glued to the screen as he spoke evenly, "Death - especially in professions that are constantly surrounded by it - is amoral."

The blond girl shook her head and turned back to the screen. "You don't have to be an ass about it, " she muttered. "And I don't agree with you, by the way."

"I don't expect you to. You're a civilian."

"At a time in your life you were one too, Derek."

An empty pause ensued before he spoke again, "And for the record, Recon Marines are trained to observe. Engaging the enemy is rare. I've killed far less people than the average ER doctor has."

Laura thought better than to continue this conversation with Derek. He could be obstinate and she had no energy to argue with him. Living with her best friend and brother was not as fun as she had thought it would be.

**- o -**


	3. Oh Darling!

**- THREE -**

Derek felt like a creeper. What was he doing there, driving around the Queens neighbourhood he once was very familiar with? _You want to see her._ He sighed. He was such a loser. He was tempted to turn around and go back to the apartment. This was beyond pathetic; and, yet, here he was, still driving towards the house that she now shared with one of his old friends. What did he intend on doing once he got to her - their - place, exactly? Man, you need to fucking let go. But he kept driving, unsure if his body was purposely ignoring what his head was telling him was a bad idea; in fact, the term "emotional masochist" came to mind.

He pulled over and sat in his car stupidly. The faded weatherboard duplex looked the same; small patch of grass was still as green as he last saw it. He loosened his grip on the steering wheel and rest his head on the seat. Loser. He was about to start the engine when the front door opened and the figure of a woman walked towards him.

"Derek?"

He looked out his open window, and there she was, standing a few paces away from him behind the front gate of the house. The sun bounced off her russet hair; pretty face settled in to a curious expression. She was still as beautiful as the day she left him. For a moment he felt like someone had punched him in the stomach, eyes just drinking the sight of her in. You'd think things would change after two and a half years.

His mouth fell in to a smile, "Hey."

"Are you going to get out?" The beginnings of amusement played on her lips.

He couldn't help but feel like a tool for making this all into some big drama and looked down, a little embarassed, before he faced her with a grin. "Of course I am." He exited the car and met her where she was standing by easily jumping over the front gate.

They stood in front of each other, unsure as to what to say. It was her who broke the silence: "You could at least give me a hug, Derek."

He hated to admit he'd always have a soft spot for her and he leant over to take her in his arms without question. Her own arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders, wrists meeting at his neck; his around her midsection, tightening around her briefly before he let go.

"I missed you Paige," he admitted, running his knuckles against her jaw.

"Me too." They didn't acknowledge the moment and let it pass. "Come inside for coffee or tea. I made sugar cookies."

He nodded, "Sure." And he followed her the short length of the pathway to the house.

"Don't mind the mess," she said apologetically, as they made their way inside, "it's what happens when you have a one year old who's just discovered the wonders of crawling."

He was met with the smell of freshly baked cookies when he entered the house. He continued to follow her, sidestepping. and stepping over, the toys that were scattered on the hardwood floors. "It's fine," he told her. And it was. He ignored the pang in his gut that told him how nice this all seemed.

"So, tea or coffee?"

"Espresso, thanks." The kitchen was painted a bright yellow, with blue and green plaid curtains framing the window that looked outside to the backyard. He sat down at the breakfast table next to the assembled high chair.

"So, where's this godson of mine that I've never met?"

Paige looked over her shoulder and nodded as she fixed them their coffee, "Napping upstairs."

She walked over to him with a plate of sugar cookies in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other, and placed them in front of the Marine. "Bon Appetit." Then she sat down across from him, resting her head on her elbow to watch him. A few errant strands of hair fell across her face, and he had the urge to tuck them behind her ears, just the way she used to let him. But he stopped those thoughts, and his hand.

"Thanks for all this."

She shook her head, "It was no hassle, everything was already ready."

"Still, thanks."

There was a brief pause before Paige asked, "So were you planning on sitting in that car of yours for the whole visit?"

He grinned, "No. And I'm sorry I didn't call ahead."

"You're always welcome here, you know that."

He settled the mug on the table after he took a drink from it. "I know, but, either way, I didn't even know if you were here or not, or whether you were busy, I could have been intruding on something."

"Never," and she punctuated this with a soft smile. "When did you get back?"

"Last Friday." She slapped his arm. "Ow, what was that for?"

"You've been back almost a week and you visit only now?"

"Well, I was back early because they had space on an earlier flight. I should have been back last night had I stuck with my original schedule, so technically I'm visiting the day after my ETA."

"That makes absolutely no sense."

He laughed, "I know. I'm using diversionary tactics, is it working?"

"A little." A beat. "How's the coffee?"

He shrugged, taking another drink, before resting the mug between his palms. "Tolerable."

"And the company?"

He sneaked a look towards her and mocked deep thought, "Tolerable too, I guess."

She swatted him again and was about to make a snide remark about the calibre of his own company when they were interrupted by a crackled wail. "That's your godson," she nodded towards the baby monitor on the kitchen counter and stood up. "I shouldn't be too long."

He nodded and she disappeared upstairs. Derek exhaled as if he had been holding his breath since he first arrived. And, truth be told, he kind of had been; unsure as to how she would react to him; how he would react to her. They had shared a few letters, photos of Owen, her life with Greg. But seeing everything in person made his stomach twist, as if somehow reading about it made it seem less real than it actually was. But it was real. Very real.

He was restless. Being there made him frustrated, just resigned to the fact that he had to live with the repercussions of his mistake - of letting her leave him. He stood up with the mug in his hand and wandered to the living area, keen to walk off the nervous energy building in his legs. He scanned over the photos on the mantle. One in particular caught his eye: it was of Paige, Greg and Owen at the beach, playing in the sand.

That was it, a sudden desire to leave took over him - the house, the baby, the family photos, the toys on the ground, the god damn sugar cookies and plaid curtains, everything, could have been his. Hindsight made him a bitter person indeed; and jealousy seemed to surge through his bloodstream with the ferocity of a tidal wave. He slammed the rest of the coffee down and walked back to the kitchen and placed the mug in the sink. He considered washing it - it would be polite - but decided his urge to leave was far more pressing. It was when he was about to turn the knob of the front door open that her voice made him stop.

"No goodbye?" He turned and saw her standing at the foot of the stairs, her son in her arms, his little head on her shoulder. She was patting his back and gently rocking him.

"I was going to say goodbye, but I figured that you probably had your hands full with Owen."

"No, not at all, stay, he's gone back to sleep now."

"I would, but Laura called me. She says she needs me to get back to the apartment to meet the maintenance man," he lied.

She nodded, seeming to understand, but disappointed he was leaving after he had just got there. "Oh, ok then." She began to walk towards the door to open it for him, but he stopped her.

"It's ok, I can see myself out."

She smiled. "It was good to see you, Derek."

He opened the door and stepped halfway through. "You too."

"I'll tell Greg you stopped by."

"You've got the apartment number, don't you?"

"You're still at the East Village place?" He nodded. "I still have it, we'll call. We'll organise a proper get together."

"Ok, I'll see you later." He nodded to the chubby little form in her arms, "And maybe he'll be awake the next time around." He wanted to hug her again. But he didn't. "Bye." He told her simply before he pulled the door shut behind him.

When he got back inside the car he rest his forehead on the steering wheel to gather his bearings. He didn't want to think about what he saw. Everything was so vomit-inducingly perfect in there. But what he would give to trade this reality for the one that should have been his. He sat back up and turned the ignition on. _You really are a fucking loser._

**- o -**

Mindy Krauss-Sherman was an old classmate of Laura's from Pencey Preparatory, who had always had designs on her older brother. So when she heard that a certain Derek Bell was not only single but also back in town, she didn't hesitate to contact her former boarding school buddy in order to invite her to a "small" dinner party she was hosting. Of course, Laura saw right through the wannabe socialite's sudden gesture of friendship towards her. Mindy and Laura's friendship had imploded during their Senior year at NYU, and they hadn't even had a simple coffee catch up in the five years since. _Probably because Derek was at Pendleton and with Paige most of that time._ She would have declined, but Scott had already accepted. She would have to have some words with that boyfriend of hers.

"No, I don't want to go Laura." When Scott called his girlfriend to tell her that he had replied to Mindy's e-mail with an affirmative, Laura automatically sought her brother, who was in the kitchen fixing himself a sandwich.

Laura pleaded, "Don't be such a douche. You have to come. They're all people from Pencey - the ones we didn't like."

Derek shook his head and walked out of the kitchen, with Laura as his shadow. "Then why did you say yes?" He fell on the couch, plate in hand.

"I didn't, Scott did. Apparently Mindy's dad is canvassing for a new fund manager and he thinks this'll be a good opportunity to slip in the good word."

He turned to his sister archly, "No, I can't stand them."

"What do you do all day anyway? You need to get out once in a while."

"I went out yesterday," he grunted, before he took a bite of his sandwich.

"Stalking your ex-girlfriend isn't 'getting out' I hate to break it to you Derek."

"I'm not having any of it Laura Maria Hale."

Laura cringed at the use of her full name. She thought of playing the _damsel-in-distress_ card, but instead she decided to try the _polite-social-obligation_ angle, which their parents had drilled in to them from a young age. "But she invited you, it's rude not to go when all of us are."

"Then say I'm busy."

She sat next to him on the couch. "I can't face them on my own." He pursed his lips and looked at her. She could see that he was beginning to crack.

"Why don't you bring your trusty sidekick?" He took another bite of his sandwich.

"Who, Lydia?" He nodded chewing. Laura began to laugh, "She said that hanging out with my old Pencey crew was the equivalent of a social lobotomy; and that she got more vapid the longer she was in their presence."

Derek swallowed and smirked, "She's got a point."

"What's your problem anyway?"

"Laura, you know I can't stand bulls*** dinner parties like that - I never could. And don't think I know she just wants to try bed me."

"Then, brother," she told him matter-of-factly, "don't bed her."

He rolled his head on his shoulder to face her, "You know I wouldn't, I'm concerned about her _trying_ to bed me, there's a difference."

"You don't like gorgeous women throwing themselves at you?" A smile played on her lips knowing that Derek would bite.

"It gets difficult. But I learn to deal." He popped the final morsel of his sandwich into his mouth.

"Come on Derek, you need to get out and stop wallowing anyway."

He turned to her annoyed, "I'm not wallowing."

"You've never been the same since you and Paige ended things."

"What does Paige have anything to do with this?"

"Just an observation."

She shrugged and turned away. He wanted to know what Laura meant with her 'observation', exactly, but thought better of it as he would have to start doing some of this 'sharing' business that Laura loved so much, as well. He sighed, "Look, if you can figure out a way to stop her from making moves on me all night then I'll go."

At precisely that moment Lydia entered the living area. She made quite a sight with a stack of manila folders jammed full of papers in her arms; an empty coffee mug hung off her pinky, and her hair was held up in a messy bun with a pen. She was completely oblivious to how Laura was devising a way to make her best friend her pawn. She couldn't have interrupted their conversation at a more opportune time.

Lydia furrowed her brows, confused as to why she had their undivided attention. Laura had a wide grin slapped on her face and Derek looked like he was beginning to connect the dots. Lydia was just wondering what, exactly, those dots were. _Maybe there was something on her face_ - she actually touched her cheek then looked at her hand thinking that there might have been. Her hand hadn't wiped anything away and she turned her attention back to the siblings.

"What?"

**- o -**


End file.
